"Guilt"

I can feel it running through my veins,
Destroying all the blooming flowers of joy growing within me.
It is even weaving a necklace of doom around my heart,
Smothering away the charms love had bestowed upon it.

I beg you to cast away this infectious disease called guilt;
All you have to do is forgive me;
I am after all, a son of Adam;
Wrought by sin and doomed to continuously lust for the forbidden fruit

Please, heed these words I say;
For they are not just being sprayed out from my throat---no,
They come from my heart.






P.S- I love you…..

“Kisimusi”

Alas, it was dawn. The roosters had already started their usual morning concerto, creating a sound so piercing that the creatures of the forest awoke and then eventually joined the symphony. The diamond-studded cloak of dew sparkled atop the musasa trees as the sun spilled its rays over the village. Tinashe immediately sprang out of his bed, put on his shoes, and then ran outside. It was still a bit misty, causing him to look like a piece of night within the white, hazy fog of that wintry morning.

He stopped running once he reached the courtyard and vigorously yelled, “Nayo Kisimusi iyi!” [Merry Christmas Everyone].

Silence.

He remained standing there, wondering where everyone was. “Perhaps I should yell louder,” he thought to himself.

“NAYO KISIMUSI IYI!”

No one answered, except the echo of his voice.

Tinashe started running around the village, bellowing helplessly to no avail. Smokes emitting from the cooking fires was clogging the air, but there was no one in sight-the village had turned into a ghost town.

As he continued on with his hopeless search, he noticed a shadow heading towards his direction. He couldn’t recognize who it was at first, but as the distance between them came to an end , Tinashe was shocked.

He had never seen anything like that in his entire life; it was like chancing upon one of the mystical creatures Papa spoke of in his stories. Its skin color was so bright and golden that Tinashe thought a ray of sunlight had possessed its body. It was also wearing strange apparel that he had never encountered; so strange that he couldn’t decide whether this creature had legs or not. In its hand, was an object he could not recognize; but it scared him anyways because it reminded him of Chiritema the witch and her walking stick.

There was always something suspicious about that walking stick because it was sculptured to look like a snake with protruding fangs. Some villagers even speculated that it metarmophosized into an actual snake with a kiss of death so deadly that crying out to the spirits was not good enough to heal anyone victimized. This made it seem as if Chiritema was the devil’s messenger unleashed from the depths of the earth to spur evil.

Tinashe began contemplating whether the mysterious figure in front of him was a god because it was exuding a celestial aura, despite the strange, dark object in its hand. As he plunged himself into a moment of spiritual awe, it lifted the dark object in its hand and pointed it at Tinashe; what followed was a shrill, deafening noise.

He began to feel the skin on his chest ripping apart, exposing his heart for the mysterious creature in front of him to glare at. Attempts to remain standing were unsuccessful because he began staggering; all the while bleeding endlessly. He had never felt so much pain before. It was manifesting within his body, killing off all the exuberance and happiness he had woken up with. The last thing he saw was soil, the very same red soil he had grown up marvelling at. The one gift from Mother Nature the villagers couldn’t survive without.

And so he lost his life, just as some were celebrating the birth of a King.



PLO!
-This is a fictional story.
-Chiritema means “It’s dark.” Not in terms of color, but more in terms of evil.
-Tinashe means “God is with us”
-This story is set during the post-colonial period of Zimbabwe, preferably the 60s. It was still under British control, called Rhodesia rather than Zimbabwe, and its citizens had gradually conformed to some Christian values (hence, the Christmas celebrations).
-The massacre that occurred in this village would have been one of many at that time because the British were on a killing spree to exterminate everyone in opposition of their rule.
-to read more about Zimbabwe’s war for independence, (which is called the “Second Chimurenga“), follow these links:

http://www.nationmaster.com/encyclopedia/Second-Chimurenga

http://www.glob.co.zw/archives/reminder%20of%20the%20price%20of%20liberation.html

“I left my heart in Zimbabwe…”

It was 7:00 pm on a Wednesday evening and I was sitting on the train having one of my usual contemplative moments. I was really exhausted because I had spent the whole day discussing the economy with the white collars of Toronto. Hence, it didn’t take long for me to fall into a little fatigue hallucination.

I began to see myself as a little boy in Zimbabwe once again, running free-spiritedly under the hypnosis of scintillating wildflower scents. I could even see the sunset beautifying the heavens with its aura, creating a blanket of vibrant colors that were unfortunately going to be devoured by the evening darkness.

“Maruva, Maruva, come back home!” a voice echoed in the distance. It was my grandmother. I quickly dashed home and was greeted by the mesmerizing aroma of the food she had prepared for us.

(God I miss her…)

Unfortunately, my moment of reminiscence was short-lived because the sirens of the train started to wail endlessly, as if to announce that the world had finally reached the 11th hour. I then walked out of the train feeling extremely depressed because it dawned to me that I really miss my country.

I understand that Zimbabwe is in the middle of political turmoil but I still find myself yearning to go back. I have a feeling doing that will help me  piece myself together. That perhaps instead of being a fragmented mosaic, I will become a unified person with a solid identity. But then leaving Canada means that  I am essentially quitting my search for the North Star of success.

So once again, I am drowning in my own thoughts and I do not know which one of them to embrace.

(Sigh…)

"I Dance"

The rains have forsaken us, madness has prevailed among the people,

And the curse of the western gods still lurks within the forests.

My country is weeping.

Here I am, dancing for this land, the sanctuary of my people;

With as much spirit as a mocking bird singing endlessly in the heat of the sun.

The music of the pulsating drums is washing away the dust from my soul,

And I can feel the wind around me, whispering softly as I reach for the skies.

I will continue dancing to chase the angels of death away;

To revive the spirits of the Motherland that had been doomed to suffer under his rule.

I will not stop until my very last breathe.

BAYETHE!

P.S-“Bayethe” is an old African expression used especially in times of celebration. 

-It was quite common after the release of Nelson Mandela, as South Africans celebrated his release.

PP.S-The young man in the image is not me (although I have indulged in African traditional dance before).

"Maruva"

Interestingly, my middle name Maruva, means "blooming flower." This is quite ironic because my life doesn't possess the beauty and perfection of a blooming flower. It's almost as if I'm rather a flower being devoured by a voracious worm, or one withering helplessly under the scorching heat of the sun.

I don't know if a "renaissance of the soul" awaits me; nevertheless, I will continue holding on to my petals, praying that they won't get blown away....

"The River"

I stand before these angry waters,

Hoping for some kind of magical ascent to help me cross.
I cannot even see my reflection because these waters are flowing vigorously,
As if possessed by Zephyrus, the Great God of the Winds.

I did cross them once,
When our love carried us through all that is hurtful.
But now you're gone, cast within the depths of his evasive shadows.
All I have left are memories of your seductive smile, golden eyes, and mesmerizing scent.

I tried yelling out to the heavens pleading for your return;
But was only responded by Mother Nature’s Song.
Now my heart bleeds endlessly and the darkness is devouring my soul;
Without any light to guide me across.